


My Jolly Sailor Bold

by Oh_For_Gods_Sake



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:39:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_For_Gods_Sake/pseuds/Oh_For_Gods_Sake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Jess meets the princes of Asgard and The Avengers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Jolly Sailor Bold

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> This fic will be written over a period of time, and I tend not to have a good ability to finish stories.  
> The rating will eventually change, but I'll give you a heads up first. :)

I could feel his gaze on me from across the room. Loki was staring at me. Again. I smiled and changed some drunkard’s mead to water, and I giggled as he took a mouthful only to spit it straight back out.

Not long after that, he approached me.

“Your amusements leave little to be desired, and greatly encourage mirth in others as well as myself.” He smiled at me.

“Now sir,” I said, “If I didn’t know better I would say that your silver tongue is weaving it’s magic again.”

He smirked, “And as you do know better?”

I pretend to think about it. “I agree with my above statement.”

“Tell me, what is your name?” He asked.

“Jessica Hipson of Midgard, milord.” I bowed as I replied, making sure not to forget my manners, or his status.

He seemed confused for a moment. “Something wrong, sir?”

“Nothing. Just curious. Is it common for women to bow, and the men to curtsey?”

I laughed. “No sir. I simply find it easier than ‘lifting my skirts’ and acting all prim and proper.”

“And you are by no means demure are you my dear? I wish to make a proposition.” He began. I inclined my head. “You shall call me Loki. No titles, no ‘sir’s or ‘milord’s.”

“Very well, Loki. And in return, I must insist that you call me Jess. It is how I am known at home amongst friends.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You consider me a friend, young one?”

“I’m not that young, sir,” (Why am I so sassy?) “And yes, from first appearances and despite that earlier you were undressing me with your eyes, I do consider you as a friend.” Loki blushed and smiled his thanks. In his defence, my outfit left very little to the imagination. I am wearing a white chiffon blouse with beautifully and carefully embroidered puffy sleeves, underneath a dark blue and black vertically striped underbust corset. Combine that with skintight matte black leather trousers and steel-toe boots, I must have looked like I was ready to start a fight.

“And in retrospect, Loki, you do cut quite the figure yourself.” He had on what I presume is ceremonial armour, with enough straps and buckles to make a BDSM club jealous.   
My mind began to wander as he nodded his thanks, and I began humming ‘My Jolly Sailor Bold’ to myself.

Loki turned to me suddenly.

“That is quite the intriguing melody. Are there words to float with the tune?”

I nod.

“Would you entreat me to a few?” He inquires.

“If I can remember the lyrics.” I smile. Almost feverishly I wrack my brains for them, and as luck would have it, they sprang to the forefront of my mind. I begin to sing quietly.

 

“Upon one summer's morning  
I carefully did stray  
Down by the Walls of Wapping  
Where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a young lass  
Who seemed to be in pain,  
Saying, William, when you go  
I fear you'll ne'er return again.

My heart is pierced by Cupid  
I disdain all glittering gold  
There is nothing can console me  
But my jolly sailor bold.

His hair it hangs in ringlets  
His eyes as black as coal  
My happiness attend him  
Wherever he may go

From Tower Hill to Blackwall  
I'll wander, weep and moan  
All for my jolly sailor  
Until he sails home

My heart is pierced by Cupid  
I disdain all glittering gold  
There is nothing can console me  
But my jolly sailor bold.”

 

When I finished the second chorus, the entire hall had gone quiet to hear the haunting melody I had intended only for the ears of the prince. I blush and turn my back to the audience. I hear the small scrape of a chair being pushed back, and something being put down. Then there are a few scurrying steps and a tap on my shoulder.

“Miss?” I turn around. It is one of the smaller violinists from the band.

“Yes?” I reply nervously.

“Miss, if you please, could you continue that song, for I and my friends wish to accompany you.” He gestures towards the band, who all nod vigorously. 

“Umm…..ok. When I hold my hand up, would you stop the music?” I whispered the last and he nodded. I give the young musician time to scamper back to his instrument, inform   
the other musicians of the plan and position him. He nods encouragingly. So I continue with the shanty.

 

“My father is a merchant  
The truth I now will tell  
And in great London City  
In opulence doth dwell.

His fortune doth exceed  
300,000 gold  
And he frowns upon his daughter  
Who loves a sailor bold

A fig for his riches  
His merchandise and gold  
True love has grafted my heart  
Give me my sailor bold.

My heart is pierced by Cupid  
I disdain all glittering gold  
There is nothing can console me  
But my jolly sailor bold.

Should he return in poverty  
From o'er the ocean far  
To my tender bosom  
I'll press my jolly tar.

My sailor is as smiling  
As the pleasant month of May  
And often we have wandered  
Through Radcliffe Highway

Many a pretty blooming  
Young girl we did behold  
Reclining on the bosom  
Of her jolly sailor bold.

My heart is pierced by Cupid  
I disdain all glittering gold  
There is nothing can console me  
But my jolly sailor bold.

My name it is Maria  
A merchant's daughter fair  
And I have left my parents  
And three thousand pounds a year

Come all you pretty fair maids  
Whoever you may be  
Who love a jolly sailor  
That plows the raging sea

While up aloft in storm  
From me his absence mourn  
And firmly pray arrive the day  
He's never more to roam.

My heart is pierced by Cupid  
I disdain all glittering gold  
There is nothing can console me  
But my jolly sailor bold.”

 

Through all this, the band picks up a beautiful melody, and the entertainment dancers develop beautiful improvised choreography, some of which the partygoers join in with. After the second-to-last chorus, I held up my hand, and the band immediately stops. All attention is diverted to me as I finished off the song.

 

“My heart is pierced by Cupid  
I disdain all glittering gold  
There is nothing can console me  
But my jolly sailor bold.”

 

The crowd is silent for nearly a full minute, and I am terrified that they are going to laugh at me, but the roof is nearly blown off with clapping, cheering and encores being yelled at me from all angles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading
> 
> Comments and kudos would be greatly appreciated
> 
> :D


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